


Entwined

by goldensnitch18



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Professors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:27:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldensnitch18/pseuds/goldensnitch18
Summary: Pomona Sprout ran the greenhouse with, if not an iron fist, then green fingers at least. So why were her beloved plants conspiring to embarrass her, in front of him of all people?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [underthemistletoe](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/underthemistletoe) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Pomona Sprout ran the greenhouse with, if not an iron fist, then green fingers at least. So why were her beloved plants conspiring to embarrass her, in front of him of all people?
> 
> Thank you to my wonderful beta for reading through this!

Pomona knew they were up to something the moment her hand touched the door. She was always able to feel them, her children. When they were longing for comfort or going through a particularly manic state, she felt every emotion with them. Sometimes, the sensations were so overwhelming that they began to affect her own views of the day and the world around her. As her fingertips touched the doorknob in the soft light of dusk on Christmas Eve, mischief traveled up her arm like lightning. Of course. Up to something.

She slid the door softly open, her wand held tightly in her other hand. At first, she struggled to understand what was happening, but, within moments, the situation became clear. “Severus!” she cried, stepping forward towards the Potions professor, intending to help free him. He was wrapped in vines in front of the Alihotsy, struggling to free himself.

“No!” he replied, but it was too late. Her wand had been plucked from her grasp as her body was tightly wrapped by firm green ropes. She let out a startled cry.

“What are you doing?” Pomona demanded. “Stop this madness this instant! You should be ashamed of yourselves!” All around the room leaves shook as if in laughter.

“Are they …” the man began, but one look from her sharp eyes cut him off.

“What did you do to them?” she hissed. Severus had always been very respectful of her babies in the past. After all, he was the only other person she permitted access to this particular greenhouse, her greenhouse. This was where she kept her personal plants, the ones she treasured above all else. He had proven himself trustworthy, and she had granted him access to this place, her haven, and given him permission to gather his own materials when he needed them.

“I haven’t done anything to them!” he told her, indignant. “I was minding my own business, pruning the Alihotsy leaves for my sixth years’ Laughing Potions next term, and then they were attacking me! The whole place went mad.”

“Were you singing?” she asked, incredulous. She had found years ago that the only way to calm that particular child of hers was with a little music. The Alihotsy was currently partial to Celestina Warbeck. She had taught the trick to Severus, and he had since refused to collect the leaves he needed unless he was alone. “You know how he gets if you don’t sing the -”

“Of course I was singing,” he hissed as if she was an utter fool for suggesting otherwise. The laughter of the leaves stopped, and a vine yanked Severus’ hair, pulling his head back hard before it quickly released him.

“I don’t think they like you snapping at me,” she informed him, smug.

“I wasn’t snapping at you, Pomona,” he lied.

“Well, I was just asking a question, Severus,” she placed the same silky emphasis on his name as he had hers.

“How do you know I’ve done something? They were perfectly fine until you showed up,” he said curtly.

Her mouth fell open, her cheeks growing a vibrant red in her fury. “Are you suggesting that my precious darlings would -”

“Your precious darlings” - the words dripped out of his mouth like acid - “have their arms wrapped around us in a vice right now. I’m prepared to suggest them capable of quite anything.”

Pomona opened her mouth again, ready to retort, but at that very moment, the vines holding her in place shoved her forward. She had to quickly shift her feet as her body moved towards the man across the room. He watched her approach, his eyes wide and uncertain. When she was about a foot from him, she suddenly stopped. “What are they doing?” she muttered, not so much to Severus as to herself. Her children had never done anything quite so off kilter before. They were temperamental sometimes, they all went through their stages, but this? This was something bordering on madness. “Lovelies,” she said a little louder, adopting the motherly voice she always used to address them, “please let us go. We’re so very sorry if we have upset you.” She glared at Severus when she was done. He rolled his eyes at her.

“Oh, yes, very sorry,” he said. His tone made it very clear that he was not sorry at all. There was no way the plants would accept that piss poor apology if they were upset with him. She was about to open her mouth to speak again when she heard the humming begin. “Oh, Merlin’s sodding-” he said as the vines holding him pushed Severus two inches closer to her.

“Oh, no,” she said softly, the color draining from her face.

Severus moved his eyes to her face, taking in her expression, clearly confused. “What is it?”

“They’ve lost their bloody minds,” she murmured as she saw it climbing the wall behind him. She had known. She had already sussed it out, she could feel their mirth, feel their intention in her soul. “Oh my-”

“What?” Severus asked, trying desperately to turn, but the vines around his body prevented this.

“This is not funny!” Pomona snapped, looking around the greenhouse at her children. “You will stop this nonsense this instant.” The leaves began to shake again, laughing along with the hum of the holiday melody from the corner. She closed her eyes tightly, waiting for Severus to be able to see, to look up. She could feel the heat climbing in her cheeks as she thought about what they wanted her to do. She had been so stupid. She had told them, how many times? She was lonely. Severus was kind to her, a rarity to be sure, and probably having more to do with her greenhouses than her. They were little more than teenagers. She should have known.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he drawled. Pomona felt her body shoved forward unceremoniously, and her eyes shot open to find her face inches from his.

“I’m so sorry, Severus. I don’t know why they are doing this,” she assured him, her eyes wide. He looked down from the sprig of mistletoe which had settled above them.

“This is what happens when you’re too soft on them, Pomona. I’ve told you,” he said.

“Yes, I’m aware that you’ve told me,” she sighed, rolling her eyes at his ability to lecture, even in this situation.

“Do you think there is any chance of them letting us off the hook?” he asked. In answer, the humming increased in volume, the mistletoe wiggled above them, and a light dusting of snow began to fall from the sky. “I could slice them all, you know,” he muttered.

“If you cut my plants, Severus Snape, it will be the last thing you do.” Her voice was cold, devoid of any emotion.

He sighed. “Fine.” He looked about, and the vines pushed him an inch closer. Severus leaned in and closed his eyes. Pomona followed suit.

Their lips touched softly at first, hesitant and polite, or cold and indifferent depending on how you chose to look at it. Either way, the greenhouse was clearly not satisfied with their efforts.

They were shoved together until their bodies touched. Quite without warning, Severus added pressure, his lips sliding more forcefully against hers. The kiss was warm, and heat flooded her. She tried to forget that he was only doing this because of her silly children and let herself remember every sensation of his lips on hers.

“Could you give me my bloody arms?” he mumbled, barely above a whisper, but the vines obeyed, pulling back from just his arms, allowing him to place one hand at her waist, pulling her closer as his other hand moved to her neck. He leaned in again, kissing her fervently as his thumb rubbed soft circles into the skin just below her ear. As he kissed her, Pomona felt the vines slowly slip away from her own arms. She rested her hands gently on his chest before she let them slowly move upwards to wrap around his neck. Many long minutes later, they stood, still entwined, in the middle of her greenhouse, snow softly falling onto them, music filling the air, and not a single vine holding them in place.


End file.
